


things we lost at the beach

by introductory



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Author's Favorite, F/M, Mindwiping, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introductory/pseuds/introductory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trick to erasing memories is knowing exactly what to take.</p><p>Or: how Charles finds out about Moira and Erik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things we lost at the beach

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/gifts), [SharpestScalpel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestScalpel/gifts).



> For the three-sentence story-I-never-wrote meme, in which two friends prompted at the same exact time:
> 
> pearl_o: _The one where Erik and Moira are secretly fucking for the entire movie._
> 
> sharpestscalpel: _The one where Charles finally figures out that Erik and Moira are boning as often as possible and that's why Charles can never find either of them._
> 
> Clearly it was a sign.

He starts with Raven and goes through each of them one at a time, gently excising them from Moira's head like pulling books from a shelf. Everything from before Westchester stays, but he takes the rest: Hank's increasingly genuine smiles, Sean's warm hugs, Alex's gruff _good mornings_ in the downstairs kitchen. The pride Moira had in them, the sense of home she'd felt even though she'd been the odd one out from the start—it all dissolves at Charles's touch, nothing more than dust, and oh, it shouldn't be this easy, but it is.

He leaves himself and Erik for last. They're the leaders of their respective—organizations, he supposes—and it's likely he'll have to take more than just the mansion; it won't do for the CIA to know how either of them strategize, or the depths of their weaknesses. He's not expecting to find anything besides tepid memories and some lingering resentment when he concentrates on Erik—who among them _doesn't_ resent Erik for what he's done, even just a little—but instead he gets flashes of lust, dark laughter, soft sheets and slick skin—

— _it's a shame you're human_ —

and Moira's answering amusement as she clenched around him, leaned down to press their bodies together for what was far from the first time. It's an endless, dizzying array of nights Charles never knew about: every bruising kiss a challenge, every breathless fuck a victory for both sides.

— _it's a shame you're **not**_ —

In the end Charles takes these, too. It's safer this way; and surely it's a mercy as well, he decides, remembering the way Moira hadn't hesitated for a second at the beach, hands steady on her sidearm, determined not to miss.


End file.
